


Abrasion

by zombiebass



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dry Humping, M/M, Male Character of Color, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Kissing, Sexual Content, Swearing, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 16:07:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4570887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombiebass/pseuds/zombiebass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The gang goes up to Naomi’s parents’ cottage to celebrate half of them graduating high school. Jeremy has issues that he seriously needs to work on. Unfortunately, no one can control his aggression and he takes it out on the wrong person. Mycena decks him. Demetrius helps him. Stuff happens in the bathroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Abrasion

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know how it happened but I ended up writing Demetrius/Jeremy fic. You can find them on my doodle blog :V http://bombiezass.tumblr.com/tagged/dem-germs

“You,” Demetrius’ eyes snap to his with alarming intensity. “Get in the house.”

_It ain’t a house, it’s a cottage_ , Jeremy wants to retort to Demetrius’ retreating back – instead drops his gaze to rivulets of dirt trapped between his fingers as he brings his left hand up to gently cup his swelling cheek in an effort to quell the throbbing pain. He has half the mind to ignore Demetrius and stay where he lay. It’s not a bad view: sky blended with pretty orange, pink, and purple gradients that looked like someone had taken a paintbrush to it. He could probably get lost staring at these clouds until dots lined his vision and needles pin-pricked his nose. He’d probably go blind eventually if he stared long enough. Probably.

He doesn’t do any of that, instead opts to listen to the nagging voice inside his head telling him to stop being an idiot, pick himself up and spit out the blood that’s pooling in his mouth and about to dangerously slide down his throat. He recognizes that voice as his conscience. His conscience sounds a lot like Demetrius.

With monumental effort, Jeremy doubles over to sit up and lean against his hands, mindful of the scratches that burn his palms as they slide over dirt and grass. His body feels weak and shaky now that the adrenaline has worn off but he somehow manages to stand on wobbly legs and stagger his way to the cottage like Demetrius told him to. The screened door creaks when he opens it. It’s quiet inside save for the muffled conversation he can hear outside through the window. He doesn’t want to acknowledge the raised voices he hears as Demetrius and Mycena.

The taste of copper on his tongue is enough of a reminder to get him heading to the bathroom. Jeremy grapples for the light switch, hand running down the cool tiled wall until he finally finds the little bump and flicks it up. Artificial white light floods the room and he has to blink back a couple of times to adjust to the brightness. Careful not to slam the door, he clicks the lock into place on the doorknob, and turns to look at his sorry excuse of a reflection in the mirror. His left cheek is slightly puffy and the telltale sign of a bruise is already starting to blossom there; same goes for his bottom lip: swollen and bruised with the exception of a cut and the little bit of blood sliding down his chin. He looks away from the mirror to spit crimson into the sink and rinse his mouth to rid the awful metallic taste.

While he’s wondering which towel to ruin so he can dry his face, a light knock on the door makes him freeze, blood running decidedly cold as his mind does cartwheels figuring out who’s outside the door. The person clears their throat and Jeremy immediately knows it’s Demetrius. Jeremy wonders if there’s any way to run out of the bathroom without Demetrius noticing him. No, that’s dumb. What if Jeremy just ignores him and never opens the door? Yeah, that’ll work.

“Jeremy, open the door.”

Fuck, how the hell does Demetrius even know it’s him in here?

With a shuddering breath, he clicks the lock and barely manages to crack the door open before Demetrius is forcing his way in, using his large frame to swing the door back and making Jeremy nearly trip over his own feet in his haste to avoid a nasty collision with his already beat-up face. Now wouldn’t that be a sight: knocked out twice in one day?

Jeremy almost snickers aloud but the humor is lost to him as quickly as it came when he takes one look at Demetrius’ face. The abrupt shame he feels floods his veins and he has to turn away from the same intensity he felt earlier burning in the other’s eyes when he looked at him because this sucks. Jeremy knows what disappointment looks like, he’s been the brunt of those looks the majority of his life, so it’s about ten times worse when his best friend is the one who’s wearing that same expression now. It doesn’t look right on him.

Something must’ve given Jeremy away because in the next moment Demetrius’ eyes soften and he grabs Jeremy’s wrist to place in his hand a make-shift ice bag, which, really was just some ice cubes wrapped in a dish rag. Close enough.

He applies the ice bag to his face just as Demetrius opens his mouth.

“Wow, Mycena really did a number on you.”

Jeremy grits his teeth and would’ve snarled harder if it didn’t make the pain in his face worse. His eyes flick to the mirror, fully expecting Demetrius to be laughing at him or at least smiling, but what he sees instead is the pensive look he’s giving Jeremy. He hovers over the sink and bends his head to hide the way his heart has plummeted into his stomach and his body has gone rigid. Jeremy knows what’s next as the seconds slowly tick by, but he hopes Demetrius doesn’t ask please don’t ask please don’t –

“What’s going on Jeremy? You’re not usually this hostile.”

Screaming, although very therapeutic, would be in very poor taste right now.

Jeremy presses the ice bag harder to his cheek, pain flaring momentarily until it recedes into a dull ache. He needs a moment to collect himself, closing his eyes and focusing on the cold, numbing sensation spreading on the left side of face instead of the guilt churning in his stomach that's threatening to rip out of his throat like bile.

Maybe he takes too long trying to get his body to stop declaring mutiny on him because he feels Demetrius’ calloused hand slide against his bony wrist before gripping it hard enough to be excessive, pulling him down until he’s seated awkwardly on the toilet with Demetrius opting to settle on the edge of the bathtub. Demetrius’ thigh presses against him. Jeremy feels sick.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Jeremy.” His tone is gentler this time, urgent. It makes Jeremy want to point out how stupidly sappy he sounds. And he means to do it, too, even goes to sit up straight and put on that cocky smirk that pisses Naomi off to no end, but the moment he looks into Demetrius’ eyes it’s like all the energy he has drains out of his body.

If Jeremy was a better person he’d say Demetrius’ viridescent eyes were attractive, downright beautiful in their cogency. His eyes always had a way of mapping his emotions where his body language failed, and right now they were directing unwarranted sympathy toward him. Jeremy balls his hand into a fist. He doesn’t deserve it.

As fast as he looks up, he looks back down and puts his head into hands, long fingers knitted tight in his coarse hair and forgetting about the ice bag which drops to the floor with a clatter. He can’t do this. He can’t tell Demetrius why he’s being a complete asshole, more of an asshole than usual, has been for the past week. If Demetrius knew – if he knew why then what would he think of him? What kind of friend would he be? He squeezes his eyes shut, fingers pulling harder at his hair. He needs to calm down, he needs –

Something warm touches his knee and his eyes snap to it like a beacon. Demetrius’ hand. His hand is on his knee. Jeremy’s eyes rove up, tracing his hand to his arm to his neck to his face until finally he’s meeting green eyes again. He knows that he shouldn’t, should never look him directly in the eye, but some part of him must be a fucking masochist because he does exactly the opposite of what his brain is screaming at him.

He’s not getting out of this one.

“I’ve been stressed lately,” he pauses, searching for a way to make this conversation as painless as possible, “‘cause of graduation.”

Demetrius narrows his eyes at him.

Fuck, okay, damn.

“I’m scared,” he whispers, so low that Demetrius might’ve not heard him if he wasn’t already so close.

Jeremy sees Demetrius’ eyebrows furrow in confusion. His hand squeezes his knee harder in a gesture that’s surely meant to comfort, but it only makes Jeremy feel sicker.

“Of what?” Demetrius asks, voice soft and gentle like he was talking to a spooked animal. And maybe he was. Jeremy’s been ready to bolt out this bathroom like his life depended on it since before Demetrius even came in here.

Jeremy shakily breathes in. It’s better to get this over with. Like ripping off a bandaid. “I’m scared of you 'n' Naomi leaving me. Y’all going off to universities that’s hours away 'n' I’m gonna be here alone –”

“But you’ll have Mycena here? And Doxal and –”

“That ain't the _point!_ ” Jeremy stresses, arms crossed tightly against his chest in an effort to control the surging anger at the mention of Doxal. He breathes out. “That ain't the point,” he says again, calmer. His knee leans a bit more on Demetrius’ thigh. “You ‘n’ me, man. We’ve known each other since we was little, yeah? We grew up together. Hell, we been through so much shit together y’know?” He licks his dry lips. “I guess I just always thought we was gonna stay together.”

This time it’s Demetrius that breaks eye contact. Jeremy feels like that should count as some sort of small victory, instead it just makes him feel incredibly hollow. “You know the only reason I’m leaving is because I was scouted.”

“I know,” Jeremy says quickly. “I know, but I’m still pissed off.”

Green eyes snap to his near-black ones and he has to force himself to keep from looking away. “What, why?” Demetrius asks, surprised.

For some reason that frustrates him. “‘Cause! What the fuck am I s'posed to do when you leave!? You the only person who knows me inside 'n' out 'n' you - you leavin’ me ‘cause of a fucking football scholarship, man! You leavin’ me 'n' I’m gonna be stuck here waitin’ tables 'n' being miserable while Mycena ‘n’ Doxal play dumb video games on the goddamn couch all day ‘n’ forget I’m even there! You – You don’t even –” He chokes back the tears threatening to spill. “I don’t even know what I’m gonna do without you.”

He feels more than sees Demetrius grab him, lifting him from the toilet and pressing him against the marble countertop in a bruising gesture of a hug. In the back of his mind he thinks maybe he should’ve tried harder not to cry, but he shuts that part of him up as he grapples for balance, one hand finding itself in Demetrius’ short locs and the other tightly gripping the back of Demetrius’ black floral tee hard enough to permanently stretch the fabric. Jeremy cranes his neck and shoves his face in the shorter boy’s shoulder, body shaking and wrecked with unflattering sobs. Hot air condenses on his ear as Demetrius shushes him, fingers rubbing small circles on his back in a comforting gesture.

Jeremy’s crying for just a few minutes before his brain catches up to the fact that he’s literally crying on his best friend’s shoulder and that embarrassing thought sobers him up almost immediately. He sniffs back his runny nose and brings his hands to wipe at the tears, drying his face in an effort to compose himself.

“S-sorry, man. I don’t –” He starts, but stops because –

Demetrius brings his hand up and cups his cheek, the one that’s not swollen and discolored, and stares. His eyes slowly trace the ridge of his nose until he’s looking at Jeremy’s own narrow eyes. “We should really get more ice for your face.” Demetrius says, a little low and more than a little far away.

Jeremy nods, ignoring the kick his heart gives at the sound of his voice. He even starts to move his body out from under Demetrius’ weight and the press of the counter on the back of his thighs. He might’ve been successful, too, if Demetrius had gotten the fuck out of the way. As it were, Demetrius isn’t moving. His hand is still on his cheek. And he’s still staring. Jeremy’s stomach is doing somersaults.

“Uh,” Jeremy croaks eloquently.

Whatever dreamy spell Demetrius was under is broken at the sound of Jeremy’s raspy voice. He blinks slowly, hand retracting, and eyebrows furrowing in a gesture that means he’s weighing something heavy in his head. He’s still not moving and Jeremy decides against trying to shove him off since he knows Demetrius is a lot stronger than him, even though Jeremy has at least six inches on him in height. Besides, it felt kind of good pressed against each other. Nerves getting the better of him, he licks at the cut on his lip. He swears Demetrius’ eyes zero in on the movement.

Jeremy’s convinced his stomach is competing in the fucking Olympics.

Something hardens behind Demetrius’ eyes and whatever internal struggle he was having seems to reach a verdict. He reaches for Jeremy again, one hand splaying on the narrow dip of his waist, the other cupping the back of his long neck to lean him forward, closer to his face until he can feel the heat of Demetrius’ breath dance across his lips.

Suddenly inspired, Jeremy tilts his head, leaning into Demetrius to close the gap between their mouths. Warm lips meet his dry ones and he has to hold back a shiver of delight at the feeling. It’s an incredibly chaste kiss, too short for him to really comprehend the barely-there lemony taste of Sprite on his lips until he swipes his tongue against the flavor and moves forward again, hand tugging at Demetrius’ hair to get his mouth back where it belongs. He makes a tiny strangled sound when Demetrius dives back in to meet him, his chest forcing Jeremy to lean back, feel the hard edge of the marble countertop dig into the back of his thighs as he tries to support his weight on it.

This kiss – Jeremy decides as he opens his mouth, letting Demetrius slide his tongue between his lips – is definitely better than the first. Demetrius’ mouth is warm and firm against his, tongue sliding around Jeremy’s until the kiss is starting to turn sloppy and wet, but Demetrius’ hand goes up to Jeremy’s face, steadying him from angling his head too much to get more of that tongue down his throat. They don’t stop kissing until Jeremy pulls back to breathe, gasping for air before surging against Demetrius again to reclaim his lips.

Jeremy has no clue what the hell he’s doing, he’s never been this hungry for a kiss since his first time receiving a terrible blowjob in his freshman year of highschool. Back then it had all been so fast, both him and the girl too inexperienced to really get over how nervous they both were and trying to cover it up with passionate, sloppy kisses while her hand undid his belt and pants. The whole night had ended in a mess, her using a bit too much teeth in the blowjob for him it to actually be comfortable, and him being too embarrassed to pull her off as she gnawed on his dick. Somewhere along the way his dick went limp, and she disappointed. They agreed to just keep making out in an attempt to salvage the rest of the night.

But those kisses weren’t like the way Demetrius was kissing him now. When Jeremy pulls, Demetrius pushes in return, and when Jeremy angles his head just so, Demetrius angles his head the opposite to deepen the kiss, matching Jeremy’s motions with flawless efficiency. It’s every bit as passionate, but there’s something fiercer, hungrier underlying every touch of their lips and slip of their tongues, and Jeremy wants to find out what that is as he licks at Demetrius’ plump bottom lip.

Jeremy thinks he’s starting to get the hang of kissing Demetrius, but like most things, finds out he’s wrong the moment Demetrius presses himself even harder against him, hands groping under Jeremy’s ass, and _grinds_. The action startles him enough to break the kiss, head jerking away as he moans. Taking that as an invitation, Demetrius’ lips explore Jeremy’s exposed neck, nipping and sucking lightly at the skin there. Jeremy runs his hand through the dark tangles of Demetrius’ hair, pressing his head harder to his neck, just as Demetrius sucks a mark to his flesh, and he thinks how embarrassingly hot that is.

He gives a ragged gasp and juts down on Demetrius’ thigh, belatedly realizing that he’s aroused from just a series of stupid kisses, but his mind shoots fireworks in his brain when Demetrius grinds his hips against Jeremy’s, hard enough to rock him back on the balls of his feet. Jeremy tries, fails to hide the humiliating whimper that escapes his mouth. His chin drops on Demetrius’ shoulder and his hands fly to Demetrius’ back, fingers clutching at his shirt. Demetrius accommodates him by putting his heavier hands on Jeremy’s hips, steadying him as he continues to rock against him in long, languid thrusts, and _fuck_ that’s good, so good.

There’s definitely a hardness in his pants and he’s one hundred percent sure Demetrius can feel it through his own jeans, which, would’ve ashamed him if he didn’t feel the same bulge reflected in Demetrius’ pants. Jeremy shudders and has to slide against Demetrius harder, faster. Blushing, Jeremy leans forward to rest his forehead against Demetrius’ shoulder, hips working furiously. Heat’s spreading all over his body, skin ridiculously hot and getting hotter as a palm slithers under his jersey and up his torso, touch searing a path all the way to his chest and burning its way down and up again. Fingers rub over his nipple and Jeremy nearly bites his tongue in surprise, instead jerks back, bends slightly at his knees, and brings his hips down solidly on Demetrius’ thigh.

Warm lips press at Jeremy’s ear. Demetrius’ voice is low, whispery, when asks, “Are you okay?”

Jeremy releases a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding, hot air condensing on Demetrius’ shoulder. He wills his muscles to untense in an effort to appear relaxed instead of how tightly wound his body actually is. Speaking is suddenly difficult. He nods his head against his shoulder.

Demetrius leans back, pulling away enough so he can stare at the sudden confusion knitting on Jeremy’s face. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m _sure._ ” Jeremy hears his own voice break and becomes aware of the straining effort it’s taking not to rub himself to completion on Demetrius. He was so close. Face and neck spilling with heat, he impatiently grabs at the other boy, hand curling on a thick arm and wrenches him forward. He better finish what he started.

Demetrius follows the motion, letting Jeremy pull him flush against his body like he hadn’t expected Jeremy to do any differently. He laughs against Jeremy’s neck, warm breath raising goosebumps on his flesh. “Someone’s needy,” Demetrius says coquettishly.

“Fo’ real?” Jeremy mutters, nearly climbing on Demetrius’ leg to get him to start moving again. “You the one that started humping me f-first.” He jerks into Demetrius’ lap just as the other boy’s thigh comes up to meet him deliciously in the middle. Jeremy groans.

Demetrius hums against his neck, vibrations tickling his skin. Jeremy shivers, working his hips again, attempting to match the pace he set earlier before Demetrius had rudely interrupted him. Some part of him is laughing at himself for being so eager to get off on just dry humping his best friend, but he can’t find it in himself to care what that part thinks of him – not when Demetrius is grinding with him again, setting a brutal rhythm that almost makes Jeremy lose it right then and there.

Careening back, Jeremy braces himself with his hands on the edge of the counter, jerking his hips down and impossibly closer on Demetrius, long arms straining to support the weight. Demetrius loops his own arms under and around Jeremy’s waist, suddenly crushing their bodies together in a gesture that makes Jeremy bite the cut on his lip to smother his moan. His legs feel close to buckling with the newfound weight of Demetrius practically on top of him, but he feels Demetrius’ hands burning on his back, grasping him steady as they continue to thrust against each other.

The heat starting to pool low in his belly makes him thrust harder, near painful, as he ruts in Demetrius’ lap, jeans surely chafing his skin. He rolls his hips, moving up and down in jerky motions that leave him gasping for air. Demetrius’ lips find their way back to Jeremy’s mouth, but he’s far too gone at this point to properly kiss him. His mouth hangs open even when Demetrius presses his tongue to his bottom lip, dragging all the way across before closing his teeth around the skin, aggravating the already burning cut on his lip.

And Jeremy couldn’t stop himself, he knows it’s over the moment he feels his cut reopen, blood beading on the edge of his mouth as his hips stutter and body pulls taut. He drops his forehead onto Demetrius’ and he can’t contain the drawn out moan of Demetrius’ name on his tongue as his orgasm crashes over him in a wave of unadulterated bliss.

He’s still coming down from his high, dimly aware of the splattered wetness in his underwear that’s probably seeping through the front of his jeans, when he feels Demetrius shift, hands sliding down his lower back, forcefully cupping his ass and dragging Jeremy’s hips and thighs forward and up in one solid motion. Jeremy summons enough energy to squint his eyelids open, unaware that he had even closed them from the sheer strength of his orgasm, and gazes down at Demetrius’ face.

Jeremy doesn’t choke, but he makes a sound close enough that could be mistaken for it. Demetrius’ face is scrunched up in pure desperation: eyes squeezed shut, brows knitted together in concentration, mouth twisted into a grimace, and dark skin flushed and damp with sweat. He looked ridiculously _hot_. And with that impulsive thought, Jeremy brings his skinny thigh up and rocks it under Demetrius’ clothed erection, sliding back and forth with enough added friction to make Demetrius groan against him.

In an unexpected moment of boldness that Jeremy will look back on embarrassingly, he tilts his chin up and looks down on Demetrius with narrowed eyes and asks, “You gonna come?”

Demetrius shudders against him and falls forward, hands groping at Jeremy’s ass painfully tight, hips shaky as he grinds himself harder and faster on Jeremy’s thigh muttering a series of _yes, yes, yes_. The sudden weight almost makes it hard for Jeremy to breathe, but it’s worth it when Demetrius gives one last slide against him and gasps, body bowing down onto Jeremy as he reaches his peak, murmuring Jeremy’s name into the taller boy’s chest.

They take a moment to catch their breath. The sound fills the silence in the bathroom, echoing back at them: Demetrius’ harsh and ragged, and Jeremy’s subdued and quiet.

And Jeremy badly wants to enjoy the afterglow of the moment, but the crushing weight on his chest is actually starting to ache his lungs, so he uses his hands to shove at Demetrius’ shoulders until he has his attention and mutters, “Off.”

Demetrius peels himself away slowly and looks up with hazy eyes at Jeremy, short dreads plastered to his sweaty forehead that makes Jeremy want to reach a hand up to brush them away. He’s not that sappy though, so he crushes that urge with a metaphorical fist before his body catches up to his instincts and acts on the thought. Instead he wriggles out of Demetrius’ grip and hikes himself up on the counter, bony knees kicking at Demetrius to give him some space.

The other boy steps back, aware of the damage those knobby knees can do from years of experience. The haziness is slowly wearing off and Jeremy can see the moment when clarity starts to enter Demetrius’ green eyes. His face looks a little stricken and his eyes dart to the side, probably embarrassed about the whole rutting against his best friend thing, but Jeremy can’t blame him for it. He can feel his come cooling in his underwear as a reminder for him to feel ashamed as well, and some part of him is because who the hell gets off on just a little grinding? But the other part of him is screaming how much he enjoyed it and how he is completely down to do it again. He wants to choke that part of him.

Seconds tick past and an awkward silence charges the bathroom. When neither one of them attempts to speak Jeremy crosses his arms around his middle, hyper-aware of the feel and sound his jersey makes against his skin at the movement. Is he supposed to say something? Does Demetrius even want to talk about what just happened? Jeremy’s eyes flicker to Demetrius’ face just as Demetrius glances at him and they both nearly jump out of their skin.

What the hell is wrong with them?

Maybe Demetrius thinks the same thought, because he sucks in a breath and levels a stare at Jeremy that translates to _we need to talk_. Jeremy’s heart kicks at his chest.

“I, uh,” Demetrius stammers. If the situation were different, Jeremy would’ve laughed at him because he has never heard articulate Demetrius at a loss for words, but hearing it now makes something icy grip at his chest and panic swim his head. _Here it comes_ , he thinks, _he’s gonna tell me this was a mistake_.

Instead Demetrius looks up at Jeremy sheepishly, green eyes blinking owlishly when he asks, “Was that...okay?”

“ _What?_ ” Jeremy balks. “What the fuck!?” He can’t help the edge of hysteria that creeps into his voice. Demetrius blinks at him again. _Cute,_ Jeremy thinks, then blanches. What the fuck, what the fuck.

Demetrius looks like he’s on the verge of panicking now, too, eyes wide and eyebrows shooting up to his hairline in surprise. “Was – Did I do something wrong? Did you not like it?”

“Of course I liked it, dumbass!” He really needs something to grab, so he hops off the counter, knees knocking into Demetrius’ legs hard enough to rattle the bones, and grips at Demetrius’ shoulders. “That ain’t the fucking problem here!” He was almost yelling.

Demetrius tenses, hands cradling under Jeremy’s elbows. “What’s the problem, then?”

_I think I like you,_ he wants to shout, _I think I like you and I wanna do this again and that scares the shit outta me_. Instead, what comes out, “I ain’t gay!”

Green eyes go impossibly wider. Something passes over Demetrius’ face and in the next second he looks serious, brows scrunching together and stormy eyes piercing through Jeremy’s. “I know you’re not gay,” he says calmly.

“Then why the fuck –”

“You’re bisexual. I’ve always known that,” he continues, as though Jeremy never interrupted him.

Jeremy freezes. His mouth hangs open as the cogs in his brain stop functioning. Bisexual – was he bi? Just because he maybe liked the things Demetrius did to him just now and that he maybe liked _Demetrius_ , did that make him bi? He blinks slowly as he processed this information that was, apparently, only news to him. His grip on Demetrius’ shoulders slackens and he feels the other slowly pry his hands off, fingers gripping lightly at his wrists before letting them drop limply down Jeremy’s sides.

Guarded amusement worms itself onto Demetrius’ face. “I see…” he mutters.

His voice jerks Jeremy out of his introspection. “See _what?_ ” he growls.

Demetrius tilts his head down and stares up at him through half-lidded eyes. Jeremy sees him clench his jaw, muscle spasming before relaxing again. “I’m going to get this out of the way just so we’re clear.” He grabs Jeremy’s hand and brings it up between them, lacing their fingers together. His eyes burn into Jeremy’s. “I like you Jeremy. I’ve liked you for a while. I don’t regret what we did here,” he pauses, face heating up as he shifts his legs. “Well, maybe _how_ we did it, but the point still stands.” His eyes are impossibly bright. “I just want you to know how I feel about you before you punch me.”

Jeremy’s fingers tense tight around Demetrius’. “You...like me?” he asks. Demetrius nods.

Holy fuck. “Holy fuck,” he echoes.

Demetrius’ lips turn upward in wry amusement. “You don’t have to answer me now, even though I’d prefer it, but I would like to know where I stand with you.” He glances down, lips twitching into a frown. “You’re still my best friend,” he whispers. “I...I don’t want my actions to come between us.”

The way his heart is pounding in his chest makes Jeremy convinced Demetrius is trying to kill him. Jeremy wrenches his hand away – minutely reading the hurt on Demetrius’ face when he does it – and instead reaches and clasps both hands behind Demetrius’ head, fingers knitting neatly in his short locs, and tugs him forward.

He overshoots the distance, lips landing more on the edge of Demetrius’ mouth and cheek than where he had originally aimed. But it’s just as well when Demetrius corrects his fumble, head angling so they can slot their lips perfectly and hands pulling at Jeremy’s waist. He wouldn’t really call it a kiss, they’re barely moving their mouths against each other, lips parting fractionally just so the skin can graze against each other. It’s a soft and gentle gesture and something Jeremy can totally get behind as his eyes flutter closed and his body turns to putty in Demetrius’ hands. He feels a hand slide up his side, catching at his jersey before sliding back down to his hips. He likes when Demetrius’ hands are on him, he realizes, though it’s something as old news when he thinks back on the many times Demetrius has touched him just to control Jeremy’s hair-trigger temper. He prefers the way he’s touching him now though, all gentle caresses and thumb playing absently on his hipbone.

Demetrius pulls himself away, eyes slowly opening with hesitance when he stares at Jeremy. “So does this mean you –”

“Maybe,” Jeremy says lowly. Pausing, he finishes, “Yeah, I guess.”

Demetrius nods, looking a little out of his depth. “So where does this leave us?”

An interlude of silence overtakes them as Jeremy thinks of an answer. His fingers twitch in Demetrius’ hair. Where _does_ this leave them? “I’unno,” he replies slowly, honestly.

Demetrius nods again, accepting his reply as an absolute truth. “There’s still a couple of months to work this out before I leave for university. Maybe we’ll figure everything out before then?” He gives a small smile, lips wobbling slightly in a dead giveaway of how unsure he actually is.

Swallowing thickly, Jeremy pulls away from him just as he hears a creaky screen door slam shut and voices filter through the previously empty cottage. Demetrius adjusts his long floral shirt over his pants and throws Jeremy one last smile before turning away, leaving the bathroom and closing the door gently behind him.

He presses his back against the bathroom door as soon as Demetrius is gone, legs suddenly threatening to give out from under him. He leans his head on his shoulder and looks at the mirror. His disheveled reflection looks back at him, unamused.

_Maybe_ , he mouths at the mirror.

Maybe.


End file.
